


sugar and spice (and everything nice)

by neverwhere (nekrateholic)



Category: VIXX
Genre: ...sort of, M/M, Soulmate AU, there's a fridge?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-16 14:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/neverwhere
Summary: Soulmate au where your refrigerator is magically connected to your soulmate’s by fate. Except fate is actually a questionably magical teleshop lady(?) andyourmeans really just yours because no one else has to deal with constantly finding that godawful takeout that throws your inner organs into the fiery depths of hell in their fridge.Hakyeon often wonders just how his life turned into this.





	sugar and spice (and everything nice)

**Author's Note:**

> so i. kinda deviated from the prompt. a little? I'M SORRY dear prompter if you're reading this i promise i meant to write actual soulmate au but then this just kinda...happened... SORRY  
> look i'm aware the title is lame. _i know._ but i love it so leave me alone

"When I said you need more impulse in your life, this isn't exactly what I had in mind." Hongbin says, staring incredulously at the three bottles of tequila lined up on the table.

Hakyeon shrugs. “What better impulse than spontaneously buying tequila in a three-for-two deal? I thought we might have a… what did Wonshik call it? Boys’ night out? Or in, in this case, I guess.”

“Wonshik definitely never said that.” Hongbin states. “But forget that, why would you think we’d drink tequila out of wine glasses?”

Hakyeon looks at him like Hongbin’s the one being dense. “Because we’re grown ups, of course.”

“But that’s tequila! If you wanted wine glasses why didn’t you buy _actual wine?”_ Hongbin insists, desperately trying to... talk some sense into Hakyeon, maybe. He should’ve known better, what with being his assistant and somewhat reluctant friend for the past six months.

“Because wine isn’t for that, dummy,” Hakyeon replies, voice calm like he’s talking to one of his more difficult students. “Wine is for pretending you’re cool and know the difference between a five and a five hundred dollar bottle of wine.” He scrunches up his nose in distaste. “And have you ever gotten drunk off wine? Ten out of ten wouldn’t recommend unless you’re in college and broke as fuck.”

“Which you’ve never really been.” Hongbin mutters. He seems like he’s coming to terms with his newfound weekend schedule.

Hakyeon laughs. “I was pretty broke in college, actually. Thank god for scholarships.”

“Oh,” Hongbin says, tone dangerously close to apologetic. “I never knew.”

“That’s fine, I never told you,” Hakyeon smiles, patting Hongbin’s shoulder. Hongbin glares at him. “When is Wonshik coming?”

“In a few hours,” Hongbin replies, pulling his tablet out of his bag. “He has an intern now, remember? He has to teach the kid stuff.”

Hakyeon makes an effort to look as judgemental as humanly possible. “You’re planning to use those few hours for work, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” Hongbin says, already glued to his screen. He takes his tablet to the living room - it seems he really will use those few hours to work. Because that’s what their lives are now.

Hakyeon sighs and pulls up a report on his laptop.

*

“I mean, your love life is truly tragic.” Wonshik states, waving his wine glass around. The tequila sloshes in it and Hakyeon sends a quick prayer for his carpet.

Hongbin nods, because of course he does. Hakyeon is surrounded by traitors. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you haven’t dated anyone since that Taekwoon person.”

“You can’t know that for sure.” Hakyeon says stubbornly, even though Hongbin really can. Because Hakyeon told him (multiple times).

Hongbin gives him _a look._

“Even Taekwoon is worried about you, man,” Wonshik adds. He sounds honestly concerned, too. “He even offered to set you up with someone. Taekwoon,” Wonshik stresses, “offered to set you up. Can you imagine?”

“Okay, first of all, fuck both of you,” Hakyeon says downing his glass. “You too,” he adds, pointing to Hongbin, who rolls his eyes. “And second of all, I am not dating another model in this lifetime, thank you very much. And if he’s so concerned about me the least he could do is come say hi, the asshole.”

Wonshik laughs. “Someone’s feeling abandoned, I see.”

“Fuck you,” Hakyeon repeats. “I just want my friends to remember me from time to time, how unreasonable of me,” he continues, trying his best not to sulk. Possibly failing (most definitely failing). He stubbornly glues his eyes to the TV. They turned on a random channel for background noise back when Wonshik arrived, and it seems there’s a teleshop program on right now. There’s a… lavishly decorated lady who’s speaking with a soft, confident voice. You can tell by the amount of pink that they’re probably talking about something stupidly romantic.

Wait.

Hakyeon turns the volume up and before he knows it, he has his phone in hand, dialing the big flashing number on screen to Wonshik and Hongbin’s incredulous stares.

*

That must have been when the tequila finally caught up with him because Hakyeon doesn’t remember much past that call. There are vague memories of Wonshik’s hysterical laughter and something burning but other than that - blankness. He vows to never drink again and hopes it lasts more than a few months this time. At least the headache is manageable.

*

The consequences arrive a few days later, shaped like a $49.99 cupcake.

 _“What?”_ Hakyeon almost-screams to the poor delivery guy.

He looks a little scared, but also very determined. “You’ve ordered this, sir, from -” he looks at the little tag on the obnoxiously pink box. “Madame Kentillenda?”

“What?” Hakyeon repeats, because, honestly. _What?_

“Look buddy,” the delivery guy says, impatience coloring his voice. “I’m not here to judge you for your life choices. But you’ve ordered a fifty dollar cupcake from a teleshop thing and I have three more deliveries in the next half an hour.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Can you, like, pay and get on with your life?”

“I… okay.” Hakyeon says finally. He goes to fetch his wallet and, once again, swears to never touch alcohol again in his life.

*

The cupcake ends up in his fridge because Hakyeon already had breakfast and a cupcake with this much fondant really isn’t good for his health this early in the morning anyway. He can’t deny it’s pretty, though - all navy blue fondant with gold glittery stars on it. He just hopes the glitter is edible.

When Hakyeon tells Hongbin the story, he just squeezes his eyes shut and stays like that for a few moments. Hakyeon knows this (lack of) look. It's the "I can't decide if this is amusing or just plain fucking stupid" look. Hongbin has translated it verbally, on multiple occasions. It doesn't normally bother Hakyeon, mainly because the looks tend to be directed at Wonshik. Now, however…

"Look," Hakyeon replies, deadpan, chin high up in the air. His voice wavers at the last consonant, though. "I mean, I think the note from the lady said it is my key to finding true love?"

Eventually, Hongbin opens his eyes. Somehow it doesn't make _the look_ go away. "And how, according to this lady of yours, is a cupcake supposed to help you find the love of your life?"

"Uh,” Hakyeon says intelligently. “The note... wasn't very clear on that part." From what he remembers, the note said something awfully ambiguous along the lines of _You shall learn what it means to be part of a whole._

It's not like Hakyeon didn't think to ask - he's a lot more rational than Hongbin seems to give him credit for. He tried to call the teleshop program again but the queue for product questions had been hours.

None of this is Hakyeon's fault anyway - it was Hongbin who insisted he needed to "get a life" and stop being a "disgusting workaholic". He needs to face the consequences. "It's all your fault," Hakyeon says aloud. “And Wonshik’s,” he adds a beat later, because _it was._ None of this is Hakyeon’s fault, really.

"We just wanted you to remember how to have fun outside of work!" Hongbin exclaims, "not to buy suspicious items from even more suspicious individuals."

"I'll have you know the... delivery guy was incredibly nice." Hakyeon says, refusing to acknowledge the petulance in his own voice. "And this Madame Kentillenda was pretty nice too, from what I remember.” Which isn’t a lot but Hongbin doesn’t need to know that (he probably does anyway).

Hongbin just sighs. "And you just bought a fifty-dollar cupcake."

"What was I supposed to do?" Hakyeon... says cooly. Definitely doesn't whine. Because he's a dignified person. “I had already ordered it! What did the poor boy ever do to me?"

"Definitely not -" Hongbin starts, then stops. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Your money, your life choices. I hope it brings you- whatever it was supposed to bring you."

"Thank you." Hakyeon says pointedly, patting his new fridge. It's just a cupcake. What could possibly go wrong?

*

When Hakyeon wakes up the next day, the first thing he does is sprint to the kitchen to see his love cupcake. It's... spectacularly unchanged. Everything looks just as Hakyeon left it the night before.

What was he expecting, really? For his fridge to conjure some pretty person overnight? Or better yet, the cupcake to turn into a hot, relatively young person. Like in the movies. Someone who'll exist only to love Hakyeon and then dramatically find his other human feelings or disappear into the oblivion after Hakyeon finally realizes he needs actual humans to fall in love with. Wasn't there a movie like that?

Whatever the case is, the facts are these: Hakyeon's fridge is there, still white, still with the random magnets that various friends have brought him from overseas over the years. A picture of him and Hongbin stuck under the candle-shaped magnet Taekwoon gave him a few days after they broke up two years ago. A handwritten, signed confession that Taekwoon will stop stealing food whenever he comes over, dated two months ago, right next to the postcard Wongeun sent him from Venice last year.

Everything is exactly the same and Hakyeon shakes his head, laughing under his breath. It was a nice thought, relying on magic to fix his love life.

Hakyeon sighs, makes a cup of tea and eats his $49.99 cupcake.

Too bad magic doesn't really exist.

*

The first weird thing Hakyeon notices is that one of his bottles of fancy soda is missing. Except it's not weird at all because Hakyeon has had to remind Taekwoon of his oath time and time again over the last two months.

But when did he do it? Hakyeon could've sworn all three bottles were there, alive and well just last night and Taekwoon has definitely not been over since then. Unless he's been there without Hakyeon knowing which... It's not impossible. Just highly improbable since Taekwoon is hardly the type to bother enough to break into someone's house just to steal a soda. Not that he _wouldn't_. He just doesn't normally care enough to.

Maybe it was Hongbin? He would've said but, well. Maybe he forgot. Or maybe Hakyeon counted wrong.

In the end, his stomach rudely, loudly reminds that food is more important than soda right now. He looks at what’s left of his cupcake. It turned out to be a lot heavier than Hakyeon initially thought so now it just sits there, half eaten and sad. In the end, maybe this really is some weird metaphor for his love life. That it’ll remain unfinished until his fondant rots away and is ultimately thrown out because no one will ever love him.

Hakyeon reaches for the carton of eggs - he'll have to strike those off his shopping list. He was convinced he'd ran out.

*

"So did you meet your soulmate yet?" is the first thing Hongbin greets him with at work on Monday. If Hakyeon was a lesser man, he'd flip him off.

As it is, he just sticks his chin up and- ignores him. Hongbin will see, when the fridge finally conjures up a cute, artificial boy or girl for Hakyeon to start his dumb comedy journey with.

"Hey," he says, poking his head out of his office a few seconds later. Hongbin whips around with a questioning look. "Did you happen to take one of my sodas last night?"

Hongbin frowns. "No? I was too busy making fun of you for your magic cupcake."

Hakyeon rolls his eyes and, once again, doesn't dignify Hongbin with an answer. He really needs a new secretary.

*

Something should’ve rang a warning bell in Hakyeon’s brain when he gets home from work and doesn’t find the leftover omelette he refrigerated this morning. The eggs are nowhere to be seen. Hakyeon is, however, tired - his last meeting of the day ran late and he mostly just wants to flop into bed. When he opens his fridge to get an iced tea and that box of strawberries he bought the other day and never got to eat, the fact that the lid is put on crookedly, a little to the side - it doesn’t strike him as weird.

*

There is a six pack of iced coffees Hakyeon never bought, sitting in smack in the middle of his fridge. All the food is gone.

 _This_ he really can't ignore.

“Hongbin,” he grits into his phone. “Hongbin, someone has been into my house.”

*

"It's just... _gone_! All of it!" Hakyeon says, trying and failing to keep the hysteria out of his voice.

Hongbin is on his phone. It looks like he's barely even paying attention. It's _sad_.

"Are you sure your ex didn't just break into your apartment for revenge while you were asleep? Didn't you say he's weird or whatever?"

Hakyeon rolls his eyes. "Me and Taekwoon broke up over two years ago and he's been over numerous times since. If he wanted revenge he would've done that a long time ago."

Hongbin finally looks up from- is that Tinder? He quickly shuts off his screen. "Maybe you just sleep-ate all your food."

"Hongbin," Hakyeon says slowly. Clearly Hongbin doesn't understand the severity of the situation. " _Someone has been in my apartment._ "

"You have an alarm." Hongbin says, just as slowly. "Your apartment building has a doorman _and_ you can only enter with permission from a tenant."

Hakyeon tries to will the budding headache away. "Look, all I know is that there was food yesterday and now there isn't. Oh," he adds a second later. "And the coffee. I guess the thief felt bad for stealing all my food"

Hongbin frowns. "What coffee?" He opens the fridge and his frown deepens. "Didn't you say you hate that Chinese place next to the office?"

"Yeah?" Hakyeon looks up. The randomness of the question momentarily distracts him from the food thief situation. "They try to cover their lack of cooking skills with cheap prices and way too much spice."

Hongbin looks at Hakyeon, then back inside the fridge.

“Hakyeon, there are three boxes from that restaurant in your fridge.”

“What?” Hakyeon screeches. He rushes out of his chair and shoves Hongbin out of the way.

And - yeah. Yeah, there are three boxes from the shitty Chinese place in his fridge. The coffee is gone as well.

“Why would you buy so much food from a restaurant you don't even like?” Hongbin asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

 _“I didn't!”_ Hakyeon says, way too loud, not even bothering to water down the hysteria anymore. “I swear to God, when I opened this refrigerator this morning there was a six pack of that cheap canned coffee from the supermarket. No Chinese.”

“Alright, alright!” Hongbin says slowly, hands in the air. He looks at Hakyeon like he’s some dangerous, frightened animal. “Then I’ll just-”

“No.” Hakyeon interrupts. The hysteria is giving way to plain, cold fear. “Please stay with me tonight?”

Hongbin just stares at him for a second. “You’re going to make me watch the fridge all night, aren't you?”

Hakyeon doesn't even have the willpower to try and look guilty. “Yes. If you stay,” he adds, “I’m going to give you an extra three days of paid leave.”

Hongbin quirks an eyebrow. “Make that a week and I’ll even stay up with you to watch your stupid fridge.”

“Done.” Hakyeon says without even thinking. It’s a sacrifice he’s more than willing to make.

*

The sun is shining right in Hakyeon’s eyes. He blinks them open, cursing himself for not closing his curtains properly. His neck is stiff and he slowly lifts his head from the table and - _wait_. Suddenly Hakyeon’s a lot more awake. And definitely not in his bedroom. When he finally rises fully, Hongbin is sitting opposite him, a cup cradled in his hands and a look of immense judgement in his eyes. Hakyeon can probably pack half his wardrobe in the bags under them.

“You sure passed out quickly for someone who was claiming he has to catch a burglar just minutes earlier,” he says, voice dripping in acid. It’s somewhat dampened by the exhaustion written all over him. Hakyeon feels like shit.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

The smallest smile graces Hongbin’s lips. “It’s my job as your secretary to make sure you don't die of exhaustion or something. That,” he shrugs. The smile stretches into a grin, “and you’re definitely giving me another day of paid leave for this.”

Hakyeon laughs. “Of course. Just make it fourteen, you’ve deserved it.”

“Now I feel bad.” Hongbin frowns. Still frowning, he adds “Not bad enough to refuse, but bad.”

“That’s alright, I don’t want you to refuse.” Hakyeon smiles reaching for Hongbin’s coffee. Hongbin pulls the cup away. Hakyeon rolls his eyes. “Anyway, did something happen while I was out?”

"I can tell you what didn't happen," Hongbin says slowly. "Burglary."

Hakyeon rolls his eyes again. "Did you check the fridge?"

"Why should I?" Hongbin shrugs. "No one was here. You didn't have any midnight sleepwalking sprees and there's no food in there anyway."

"I told you," Hakyeon says, exasperated. "Something is happening." He goes to the fridge, opens it and - "Hongbin. Are you sure you stayed here all night and didn't touch the fridge?" Hakyeon asks, stressing every word.

Hongbin sighs. "I told you already," he starts, walking over along with his coffee. He peaks into the open fridge. The cup clatters to the ground, breaking into two oddly even pieces. The coffee forms a puddle at their feet. "Hakyeon." Hongbin says. He rubs his eyes, then takes a few steps back. "I didn't put this there."

The shitty Chinese is still there (although a lot less than it was before). What's new is a row of energy drinks in the drinks compartment and a new carton of eggs on one of the shelves.

"The weird thing is, I believe you." Hakyeon sighs, turning back to Hongbin and letting the door of the fridge slam shut. “I _told you_ something is not right.”

“Alright, let’s try to think about this logically, there has to be a logical explanation for this,” Hongbin says, absently dropping paper towels in the coffee puddle. Hakyeon gently pushes him aside and takes out his mop. “Things appear and disappear from your fridge without any explanation.” There is a pause in which Hongbin just stares at the mop eating away at the coffee puddle. “There is no logical explanation to this.”

Hakyeon takes the mop into the bathroom and loads the coffee maker. “I just don't understand. What changed to make my refrigerator randomly replace what I put in it?”

Hongbin blinks at him. “The cupcake. You put your shitty soulmate cupcake inside it.”

“Oh shit,” Hakyeon breathes. He quickly opens the fridge, takes what’s left of the cupcake out of it and throws it away. Hongbin moves behind him again, staring at the almost empty fridge.

Right in front of their eyes, one of the energy drinks fizzles out of existence.

“I guess that answers the question of whether taking the cupcake out will solve the problem,” Hakyeon says, letting the door slam shut again.

“Maybe you should contact your Madame Kentillenda again?” Hongbin suggests, cringing at the name. “Doesn’t the home shopping channel have some sort of customer support phone?”

“The one thing I order that actually works,” Hakyeon says with a sigh. “And _this_ happens.”

Hongbin shrugs. “I told you the cupcake was a shitty idea.”

“It would’ve been useful if you’d told me when I’ll actually remember it,” Hakyeon mutters. He doesn’t protest more, though. This time, even he doesn’t have the heart to argue.

*

“I’ve been on hold for two hours now!” Hakyeon exclaims at the next overly polite middle aged lady that tells him he’ll have to be transferred to be connected to Madame Kentillenda and can he please hold for a minute? _Two. Hours._ His phone bill is going to cost more than his house.

“Yo,” finally says a suspiciously _male_ voice in the receiver.

“Um,” Hakyeon replies intelligently. There’s some shuffling on the other end, a whisper that sounds a lot like _customer._ “I’m trying to speak to Madame Kentillenda?” Hakyeon adds. He’s feeling weirdly hesitant all of a sudden.

“Oh!” the male voice replies, a lot brighter. “I’m sorry, just a minute.” Hakyeon, who has a swear jar installed in his office, is ready to curse the whole teleshop crew with their goddamn minutes when -

“I apologize for the delay, sweetheart, I’m a bit of a busy woman,” Madame Kentillenda laughs. Her voice sounds a lot like the man Hakyeon was just speaking to. Maybe they’re siblings or something?

“I got that from the ten million people I had to talk to before I got to you,” Hakyeon grumbles. Then, because he’s _nice,_ adds “no offence.”

Madame Kentillenda laughs again. “None taken, love. What did you want to talk about?”

“Um,” Hakyeon says for the second time. Now that he’s actually about to talk about it out loud, it all sounds so silly. But he’s already here, on the phone with a TV psychic about the cupcake he bought from her. “I bought a cupcake from you a few days ago? More like a week, actually.”

“I know,” Madame Kentillenda interrupts. “I’m psychic, remember? Did it help you find true love?”

“Not really, no.” Hakyeon states. This one he’s sure of. “I kinda… Okay, listen,” he says, determined to just get it over with. His phone bill is only getting higher. “It arrived at a very inconvenient time so I put it in the fridge and...”

Hakyeon is once again interrupted, yet again by Madame Kentillenda’s loud laughter. “You put my cupcake in your fridge. And now you have a problem.”

“I wouldn’t spend three hours on the phone trying to talk to you if I didn’t have a problem!” Hakyeon explaims. Madame Kentillenda quiets.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, please continue.” At least she has the decency to sound apologetic.

Hakyeon hesitates again. “Now my food started disappearing. And other things appear in its place. It’s like I’m sharing a fridge with someone except I live _alone._ ”

“Mm, I see, I see,” Madame Kentillenda says. Hakyeon imagines her stroking a nonexistent beard. “The cupcake I gave you was supposed to help you find your true love, sweetheart.” Madame Kentillenda’s voice is soft. It would be almost mother-like, if she didn’t sound so young. “It was supposed to lead your heart to the person fate has chosen for you.”

“It helped someone rob my refrigerator.” Hakyeon insists. Madame Kentillenda’s calm, happy tone is starting to grate on his nerves.

“Well,” she says, smile obvious in her voice, “you’d better learn to share, sweetheart.”

And just like that, she hangs up. Hakyeon slowly moves the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a full minute.

Two hours.

Lost.

Somehow, he resists the urge to break his phone in half. And then, like with every disaster in his life for the past few months, he calls Hongbin.

*

“Let’s see if I’ve understood this right.” Hongbin sighs. He hands Hakyeon a cup of tea. Who cares if it’s sweltering summer outside - cold things remind him of his hell fridge. They might be at Hongbin’s now but Hakyeon has _flashbacks._ Battling hot with hot, wasn’t there a thing like that anyway? Hongbin sighs again. “Your uh, Madame Fortune teller told you you share a fridge with your soulmate.”

“Well,” Hakyeon starts. He takes a sip of his tea to… definitely not to avoid explaining this ridiculousness or anything. Really. “That’s not exactly what she said but… yeah, basically.”

Hongbin rubs his temples. “Are you really trying to tell me your refrigerator is magically connected to the- love of your life or whatever?”

“Listen,” Hakyeon says, clutching the cup in his hands. “Stop making it sound like I’ve lost my mind. Did you or did you not see that energy drink disappear right in front of your very eyes?”

“I mean,” Hongbin replies slowly, “I _was_ kinda sleep deprived-”

_“Lee Hongbin.”_

“Fine,” he finally concedes. “It did disappear. So your fridge is magically connected to some random dude out there.” He tilts his head, giving Hakyeon a critical once over. “Or a girl.”

Hakyeon deflates. “Honestly, at this point the only thing that’s slightly surprising is that my, uh,” he puts the cup down and air quotes, “ _soulmate_ , is that they have such a shitty taste. I’d imagine the love of my life would like at least slightly similar food.”

Hongbin shrugs. “Maybe they have other redeeming qualities.”

“Well,” Hakyeon sighs for what feels like the thousandth time, “I can’t know. I’m magically linked to their _fridge_.”

“When I started working for you,” Hongbin starts, glaring at the wall where Hakyeon knows his diploma hangs framed, next to a graduation picture of Hongbin and his family. “I really didn’t know this is what I’m going to be doing.”

Hakyeon shrugs. “Risks of the job, my love.”

Hongbin’s eyes snap back at his, caught somewhere between a glare and pure, unadulterated disgust.

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

*

The final straw is, oddly, a plate of cookies. Because baked goods are out to ruin his life. Clearly.

The thing is, this plate of cookies had been special. And also... They were from a terribly expensive but terribly good bakery that Hakyeon had to work for years to be able to afford. They weren’t exactly out of his budget now, as the principal of a relatively popular dance school but - they were still special. Being able to not save up for days before he can allow himself a plate of cookies felt good. It made him feel accomplished.

Hakyeon was a little hesitant about leaving the cookies in question in the fridge but it was bad enough that he wouldn’t eat them right away - that buttercream was going to hell if he left it out.

And now the cookies are gone.

Hakyeon looks at the place he’d left them in. Gone. Replaced with more boxes from that shitty as fuck Chinese place.

He grits his teeth, stomps his way to his bedroom, and writes a letter.

*

_Dear whoever you are,_

_If you haven’t noticed by now, your fridge isn’t exactly your fridge only now. Hasn’t been for a while now. I wish I had a rational explanation for this. I don’t._

_What I do know, however, is that you’ve been eating food that isn’t yours and I’d really appreciate it if you stopped. Honestly. I’m sick of being afraid to use my own refrigerator. Since we’re apparently stuck together for the foreseeable future, we’re gonna have to lay down some rules, buddy._

_The first being,_

_Stop fucking eating my food._

_Thanks._

*

Hakyeon is not exactly sure what he expected when he left the letter in his fridge that night. Somehow, he didn't even consider that whoever was on the other side of that fridge would reply.

Still, the pale green sticky note stuck to the base of a (admittedly cheap) chocolate cupcake takes him by surprise.

_Well, at least now I know I’m not going insane._

_This is probably not as good as yours but 1. I don’t know where you got it from and 2. I probably can’t afford it anyway._

_I’m genuinely sorry. Believe it or not, magical fridge connection and consequently accidental theft from a random stranger weren’t the first things that came to my mind._

_I propose a deal: you get bottom shelf since I’ve noticed you prefer it. I get top, same with the drinks. You’ve had a roommate before, yeah? We’ll be… fridge mates? Whatever._

_P.S._

_Don’t pretend it was only me eating your food. I really needed those eggs._

Well.

“That’s a solution too, I guess,” Hakyeon tells his empty kitchen. It really should feel more relieving than it does.

*

“Let me get this straight,” Hongbin says, absently picking papers from his desk and stuffing them in his messenger bag. “You’re sulky because your fridge buddy is mad at you.”

"I'm not sulky," Hakyeon grits. He's a little irritable today, yes, but not _sulky._ It probably has something to do with the moon... or was it the sun? He'll never fully understand those horoscope things. "I'm not sulky," he repeats.

Hongbin gives him a weird look. Thankfully, he doesn't push. "Wonshik is expecting us in about half an hour. Hurry."

Hakyeon, not for the first time, is glad he hired him.

*

When they ring the intercom for Wonshik's studio, weirdly, it's not Wonshik's voice that says _Just a second._ Hakyeon looks at Hongbin, confused.

Hongbin shrugs. "He has an intern, did I not tell you?"

"No," Hakyeon says, still confused. Since when did Wonshik do the whole internship thing?

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I did," Hongbin replies, just as they see someone descending the stairs inside. He doesn't exactly look college age, Hakyeon can't help but notice. Hongbin turns to him, eyes full of judgement. "But I guess you were too fascinated with your tequila bottles to listen to me."

Before Hakyeon has time to reply (he's not sure what he would've replied, even if he had) the door swings open.

"Hi," the... boy? Man? The _intern_ grins at them. "I'm Sanghyuk."

The first thing that Hakyeon notices is that Sanghyuk is tall. And _big._ And also _intern,_ Hakyeon tells himself. Intern means _college._ He’s so going to hell.

"My name is Hongbin," Hongbin says, a polite smile on his lips. He shakes Sanghyuk’s hand and subtly kicks Hakyeon in the shins. It’s not all that subtle, judging by Sanghyuk’s raised eyebrow.

It’s then that Hakyeon realizes that hey, he still hasn’t said hi. Or anything. Or stopped ogling this Sanghyuk kid. The awful summer heat feels strangely like a prelude to Hakyeon’s untimely descent into the abyss. He is _so_ going to hell.

Oh well. He might as well enjoy the ride. Hakyeon slaps a charming smile on his face, the one that usually gets him out of trouble with the delusional parents of prissy, rich assholes and shakes Sanghyuk’s hand.

*

"Hey," Wonshik greets, taking his headphones off. Sanghyuk closes the soundproof door behind them.

“Hello,” Hakyeon replies, sprawling himself on the couch in Wonshik’s studio. “I swear, there is nothing more comfortable in this world than this couch.”

Wonshik snorts. “Not what you said the last time you slept on it.”

“Those were the twenty minutes of sleep talking,” Hakyeon insists impatiently, waving a hand in the air. He straightens up when he notices Sanghyuk and Hongbin staring at him, one with curiosity, one with immense judgement.

“Wonshik is Hakyeon’s go-to producer for school things,” Hongbin explains to Sanghyuk, who’s still looking curiously between the two of them.

“Unfortunately,” Wonshik sighs dramatically, easily dodging the cushion Hakyeon throws at him. “To be honest,” he continues, turning to Sanghyuk with a smile this time, “other than me, he’s the person that’s spent the most time cooped up in here.”

“Now that is truly unfortunate,” Hakyeon sighs as well, mimicking Wonshik’s tone from before.

Wonshik rolls his eyes. “Are we going to do work or what?”

“And people tell me I’m a workaholic,” Hakyeon sighs, motioning for Hongbin.

“That’s because you are,” Hongbin replies evenly, handing the stack of papers to Hakyeon.

“Lies and betrayal,” Hakyeon sighs again, dropping all the paper in front of Wonshik with an expectant look. Wonshik leafs through a few of them and removes his headphones entirely.

The eyeroll is _audible_ in Hongbin’s voice. “You don’t pay me enough to keep up your image as well.”

*

“I think I get it,” Wonshik says after two hours of alternating between scribbling on random pieces of paper and loud arguments with Hakyeon.

Hakyeon stares at his stack of papers. They are all ideas, his, students’, teachers’. Choreography, lyrics, melodies. Now they’re all marked up, annotated, corrected. The pile of messy writings bears little to no resembles to the neat stack Hongbin had handed him earlier. That’s how Hakyeon knows it’s good.

He takes a stray sheet, dance moves haphazardly sketched with various level of detail. Wonshik’s messy writing colors almost all of the empty spaces. Hakyeon pokes his nose with the paper. “When are you going to choreograph something for me?”

“When are you going to sing in one of my songs?” Wonshik replies without missing a beat.

“You can dance?” Sanghyuk asks, a little awed and - oh, right. They weren’t alone. Then Sanghyuk’s eyes land on Hakyeon. “And you can sing?”

“Wonshik can dance, I can attest to that,” Hongbin pipes in, a hint of smugness sneaking into his voice. Like knowing that Wonshik can dance _means_ anything, the asshole. “But Hakyeon’s singing skills are a myth I’m not sure I believe in.”

“Fuck you,” Hakyeon says the same time Wonshik bursts out laughing.

“Don’t curse in front of the child,” Wonshik chides a smile still playing on his lips.

Hakyeon has about half a second to actually feel bad because then Sanghyuk sends Wonshik a glare that could probably singlehandedly end a small animal. “I am twenty-five, you ass.”

Oh. “Oh,” Hakyeon says aloud too, before he can stop himself. To be fair, he _is_ curious. “I thought you’re an intern?”

Sanghyuk shrugs. “I am, I’m in my last year of college. I had to miss a few years, though. To save up.”

“I see,” Hakyeon replies, automatically turning Dance Academy Principal mode on. He’s had to deal with quite a bit of students just like Sanghyuk - he knows how touchy of a subject that could be.

“Anyway,” Sanghyuk continues, “I’m here now. As should be the food soon.”

“Food?” Wonshik pipes up, suddenly alert. “What food?”

“I ordered food while you two were yelling at each other about ballet steps.” Sanghyuk says with a level of exasperation that’s really uncalled for, if you ask Hakyeon. He kind of sounds like Hongbin.

As if on cue, his phone buzzes and Sanghyuk gives them a little wave before he disappears out the door.

*

“No.” Hakyeon states as soon as the boxes land on the small table in the studio. Then again, louder. “ _No._ ”

Wonshik rolls his eyes while Sanghyuk gives him a puzzled look. “What?”

“Hakyeon hates that Chinese place,” Hongbin says, impassive. He reaches for one of the boxes, the traitor.

"I don't understand how anyone would like it, honestly." Hakyeon huffs, glaring at the table. "Their cooking is terrible and the excessive amount of fire-breathing spice is not enough to cover for it."

Something flickers in Sanghyuk's eyes, too quick for Hakyeon to decipher. "It's not that bad," he says calmly, eyes back on his - whatever it is he's eating. It looks like something that has once been a bird. "It's not the best either," Sanghyuk adds, "but some of us can't afford the best."

And this, here - this is when Hakyeon feels like a complete and total asshole. He opens his mouth to... apologize maybe? But Sanghyuk isn't paying attention to him anymore, instead he's smiling at Hongbin, already talking about one of the games Hongbin likes so much. Hakyeon is not entirely sure how to even run the thing.

Wonshik gives him a sidelong glance, worry clear in his eyes, but Hakyeon shakes his head, forces a smile on his lips and picks up a random box.

 _Is it too much to hope for a salad?_ he thinks absently, accepting the chopsticks Wonshik offers him.

Yeah. Yeah it is.

*

The rest of the afternoon in Wonshik's studio is awkward, to say the least. Not that Sanghyuk acts in any way different than he did before - on the contrary. He's funny and nice (and _hot,_ even if that's nothing Hakyeon likes to think about). Still, Hakyeon feels somewhat undeserving of the niceties.

When he and Hongbin finally leave, Hakyeon asks for them to stop at one of the fancier Chinese places he knows. Hongbin snorts but for once in his life stays quiet, thankfully.

*

The note Hakyeon sticks to the box before putting it in his fridge is this:

_I'm sorry,_

_I was a bit of an asshole last time. Truce?_

He puts it on the shelf he dubbed as "the soulmate shelf" in his mind. And then goes to bed.

Sanghyuk and the person on the other side of that fridge might not be one and the same but Sanghyuk might never get his apology - hell, Hakyeon might not even see him again in his life. The person on the other side of the fridge, however.

Hakyeon has a feeling this story is far, far from over.

*

The note that greets him on his own shelf in the fridge the next day is stuck on an apple. It says: _You seem like someone who'd be into healthy stuff. You're still an asshole but the effort was appreciated._

The food is, of course, gone. Hakyeon smiles at the sticky note without really meaning to. His potential soulmate might be a smartass but, to be fair, Hakyeon did deserve it. He takes the note off the apple and sticks it to the fridge, right under Wongeun's magnet.

It’s a bright day outside and Hakyeon decides to take advantage of his day off for once. The pile of paperwork he needs to go through won’t disappear overnight (even though sometimes he really, really wishes it will).

He takes out the trash, greeting the old lady that lives above him on his way down. She smiles and her dog halfheartedly yiffs at him before it finds something more interesting to be excited about. Hakyeon laughs at it and waves Mrs Lee goodbye. It’s still quite early in the morning, the kind of bright which you only get at a certain time of the day. Hakyeon truly loves that time, even if he rarely has time to really experience it. Bright mornings are the one time in the day where he feels anything, _everything_ is possible.

It gives him an idea.

Hakyeon makes a quick trip to the grocery store. Most of his perishables have... well, perished, most possibly in the stomach of his mysterious fridge buddy and that's usually not an issue - Hakyeon isn't exactly the most passionate cook. But now. Now he has a day off, a feeling of pure, unadulterated bright morning happiness. He's going to make himself breakfast, he's going to do everything he hasn't had time to do for himself during the week. (If he buys an abnormal number of variously shaped sticky notes - well. He works in an office. He needs sticky notes.)

*

The pancakes turn out... less than desirable, to say the least. Contrary to popular belief (Taekwoon) Hakyeon does actually know how to cook edible things. They even look as good as Taekwoon's, most of the times. Sometimes even better. (They can never compare in taste but hey, nobody's perfect.)

Still, Hakyeon neatly wraps five - he made too many okay? He puts them in the fridge, decidedly not on his shelf. He thinks about it for a total of two seconds, then takes out a jar of Nutella he bought earlier and puts it next to the pancakes. The note he sticks to the Nutella reads simply _I made too many, thought I'd share._

With that done, he makes himself a cup of tea, takes his breakfast to his living room, turns on the TV and forces himself not to look for excuses to check his fridge every ten minutes.

*

The reply comes late at night. Hakyeon is almost done with his night routine when he thinks that, hey, he can totally take an innocent look at his fridge while he waits for his face to air dry. For science.

It’s stuck to a foil-wrapped plate of… cookies? Hakyeon stares at them for two solid minutes. They look like _good_ cookies too.

The note reads: _It’s really sad you won’t get to experience the magic they were when they were warm. (I bribed my roommate to make them.) (Also thanks. Bribery will get you everywhere.)_

Hakyeon turns to staring at the cookies again. When they don’t disappear after the third time he’s rubbed at his eyes, Hakyeon finally puts them on his kitchen counter. It’s really tempting not to take one right now. But it’s late, and he already had dinner. But they really do look good. Channeling all his willpower, Hakyeon carefully re-wraps them, then sticks the note to his fridge, right next to the one from the apple.

That night, his dreams are filled with fluffy blue monsters. He even marries one - they live happily ever after in the cookie kingdom. Hongbin is there too - occasionally jumping out of a trash can. It’s beautiful.

*

Due to Hakyeon’s great, magnificent, unbreakable resistance, the cookies are still there in the morning.

The paperwork is still there, waiting for him too. Hakyeon takes one look at the cookies, then at the stack of papers on his coffee table, sighs and settles in the living room, along with the cookies.

He’s not even halfway through the official correspondence, budget proposals and applications when his phone starts ringing. Wonshik’s name insistently blinks on the screen when Hakyeon picks it up. So much for a calm weekend.

“I need you to sing on a demo for me.” Wonshik says instead of a greeting.

“Hello to you, too,” Hakyeon grumbles, skimming through another letter from one of their sponsors. “You know I don’t sing like that.”

Wonshik heaves a sigh. “I’ll never understand why but yes, I do know. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t urgent. All of the singers I usually work with are busy and my voice wouldn’t suit the song.” Hakyeon presses his lips together. Sure, Wonshik is his friend, but singing… “I’ll choreograph for you. Not something big!” Wonshik hurries to add. “Maybe for an in-school competition or something. Just. Please?”

“Fine,” Hakyeon sighs. “But I’m holding you to that promise.”

“As expected.” Wonshik laughs. “Can you come by this afternoon?”

Hakyeon stares at the still sizeable stack of papers. “Sure,” he says to Wonshik. “See you at four.”

*

It’s still technically Hakyeon’s day off which means it’s still Hongbin’s day off too. Hakyeon doesn’t call him - Hongbin deserves his rest.

He packs up some of the cookies because, honestly, he doesn’t want a repeat of last time. There are only so many times he can handle the flames of hell.

“Hi,” he tells Wonshik when he opens the door at 4:01pm. “I suppose it’s pointless to ask why you are in your studio on a Sunday.”

Wonshik laughs. “You say that like I didn’t pull you away from your work. On Sunday.”

Hakyeon grins. “Guilty as charged. I, however,” he starts, raising an eyebrow and nodding hello to Sanghyuk on the soundboard, “don’t exploit my interns on Sundays.”

“Actually,” Sanghyuk interrupts, somewhat sheepish, “it’s my fault he called you here.”

Hakyeon looks between them quizzically.

“It’s his final project,” Wonshik says. “The thing he has to show to his school to prove he actually learned something.” Maybe Hakyeon imagines it, but Wonshik’s voice sounds strangely _proud._ “We tried to work with his voice but it’s not quite good enough yet. Yours is close enough and we need to start working on the song as soon as possible.”

“Don’t you have a,” Hakyeon waves a hand around aimlessly, “I don’t know, a backlog of singers ready to step in in these situations?”

Wonshik laughs. “I don’t work with that many people regularly. And the ones I do work with are all busy right now. Even Taekwoon is overseas.”

“Again?” Hakyeon sighs. “I hope he brings me a magnet this time. He always forgets.”

“Who’s Taekwoon?” Sanghyuk asks. For a moment, Hakyeon forgot he was even there. He wonders how - Sanghyuk is quite the presence.

“A friend of mine and his ex,” Wonshik nods towards Hakyeon. Ugh. Why does he always have to introduce him like that?

“We dated for about six months,” Hakyeon explains. “Two years ago. I honestly wonder how we survived even this long, dating Taekwoon is like adopting a small child. That steals your things on top of everything.”

“Hey,” Wonshik says, voice stern, but the smile that’s trying to make itself known is unmistakable. “This is my best friend you’re talking about.”

“Am I lying though?” Hakyeon says, not even bothering to hide his own smile. Wonshik starts laughing, too. You simply can’t deny the truth with Taekwoon.

Sanghyuk is still looking between them, somewhat puzzled. Hakyeon pats his shoulder sympathetically. “Sorry about that, show me that song you were talking about?”

*

The song is good. Or will be, at the very least, that much Hakyeon can tell, even if he’s not really a musician. That’s also where the problem lies, though - the song is _good_ and Hakyeon is _not_ a musician.

“It’s really not that hard, I swear,” Wonshik says, sensing Hakyeon’s doubt. “You can do it, I swear you can.”

“Really?” Hakyeon replies, still unconvinced. He plays the instrumental again. “I’m-”

“You don’t need to sing on the actual recording,” Sanghyuk interrupts, hints of annoyance sneaking into his voice. “I just want to hear it from an actual person who can sing.”

“And you are a person who can sing.” Wonshik adds, a little exasperated.

And there it is - that’s two people Hakyeon annoyed in the past fifteen minutes. And the impression Sanghyuk has of him isn’t improving at all. Hakyeon steels himself. Oh well.

“Fine, let’s do this.”

What could possibly go wrong?

*

“You can sing,” Sanghyuk says incredulously. “You can actually sing.”

Hakyeon glares at him. “Wow, thanks.”

“No, I mean,” he flails his hands, trying to articulate… an elephant? Hakyeon’s not entirely sure. “You made so much fuss,” Sanghyuk continues, hands finally dropping. “I thought you’d suck.”

“I told you,” Wonshik butts in, the smirk obvious in his voice. “He just not the best and it kills him inside.”

“A perfectionist then,” Sanghyuk replies, a little amused.

Hakyeon resists the urge to flip both of them off. “I’m starting to really regret agreeing to this.”

“No, please no,” Sanghyuk hurries to say, frantic, like Hakyeon is about to bolt out the door any second now. “I love how your voice sounds with the song?” The confident facade flickers and then cool, calm Sanghyuk is back. “Is there a way to convince you to sing on the final track as well?”

“Not really, no,” Hakyeon replies, not unkindly. “I’m honestly flattered you like my voice but I don’t think I’m the best choice for something this important. You said it’s your final project, yeah?” At Sanghyuk’s nod, Hakyeon smiles, apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Wonshik shrugs, the _I told you so_ clear in his eyes.

It’s awkward, to say the least and Hakyeon racks his brain for a way to brighten up the mood.

“Oh!” He exclaims, reaching for his bag, “I totally forgot, I brought cookies?”

“Since when do you cook for fun,” Wonshik asks, eyebrow raised.

Hakyeon rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder why we’re even friends.” He offers the container to Sanghyuk first. “A… friend of mine made me for me. Or asked someone to make them for me, I think? Anyway, they’re great.”

Wonshik steals the container from Sanghyuk and hums thoughtfully, munching on a cookie. “They really are good.”

Hakyeon is about to snip at him, because why not, when Sanghyuk interrupts, looking between Hakyeon and the cookie in his hand. “A friend, you said?”

“Oh yeah,” Hakyeon replies. How do you explain to a near stranger that your fridge is magically connected to another person? “It’s… a long story.” Wonshik looks like he’s about to ask questions but Hakyeon waves him off before he can even start. “Some other time.”

Sanghyuk is still examining his cookie. And then he eats it whole.

At Hakyeon’s most probably horrified look, he shrugs. “It’s a good cookie.”

*

Back at home, Hakyeon’s paperwork hasn’t magically disappeared, unfortunately. Why couldn’t he get a magical coffee table with someone who’d finish his work for him? Instead he had to get a fridge and a hopefully young, sweet person with terrible taste in Chinese.

He sighs, flops on his couch and grabs the next sponsor letter.

If he hopes to get at least a semi-decent amount of sleep tonight he has to eat this goddamn pile of paperwork.

*

When he wakes up the next morning, Hakyeon is still on his couch, sheets of paper strewn all over him. By the looks of it, it’s quite early in the morning and if Hakyeon has learned something about himself ever since he has constant work hours, his alarm will blare in about two minutes.

Or thirty seconds, whatever. Hakyeon reaches for his phone to turn it off, carefully removing the student applications he’d fallen asleep with. None of them are too wrinkled, thankfully. He gathers everything in a neat stack and gets up to fetch a lemon from the fridge for his morning routine. Hopefully his fridge buddy doesn’t like lemons - then again, they agreed not to touch each other’s things.

The lemons, which Hakyeon is sure were strewn around fridge pretty haphazardly just last night, are arranged in a pyramid. On the top one, there’s a note.

_Isn’t it weird how we’ve been sharing a fridge for what, two weeks now? And we don’t know anything about each other. Do you have any idea how we even wound up like this?_

Hakyeon considers it. On one hand, the story about Madame Kentillenda is quite… embarrassing, to say the least. But then again the person in his fridge doesn’t really know him. Most likely never will.

So Hakyeon sticks the note on his fridge, like he did with all the previous notes, and gets to writing.

*

 _Let me get this straight,_ the answering note says, _we got magically connected because you wanted to get laid? So you called a teleshop lady?_

Hakyeon walks back to his living room to pick up the briefcase he so hastily dropped there, still reading the note. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t anticipated coming home to the potential reply. (And Hongbin’s not here, so Hakyeon doesn’t have to _say_ the lie either.) He feels a little giddy, sort of like he felt in high school when a cute boy or girl would walk up to him. There’s this exhilarating feeling in consciously letting new people into your space, Hakyeon honestly thought he’d grown out of it. He’s glad he hasn’t.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t defend his honor to the death, mind you.

 _Listen,_ he writes, pressing the pen so hard the indents are visible on the notes under the one he’s using. Good thing he didn’t write directly on the table. _I was drunk. And peer-pressured into… “getting laid”, as you called it. It wasn’t my fault, okay? I was vulnerable and that lady just… showed up, except with more romantic shit than I’d expected._

He taps the pen against the note a few times. Does that sound too aggressive? Too defensive? Definitely defensive, but the point kinda _is_ to defend himself.

In the end, he shrugs, sticks the note to a popsicle and puts it in the fridge, hoping his fridge buddy will find it before the popsicle melts and ruins everything. And if it does melt and ruin everything - well, such was fate.

*

Turns out, the popsicle doesn’t have time to melt. In fact, the note in reply arrives not even twenty minutes later. Hakyeon has an actual reason to open his fridge this time - he just wants a soda. And there it is, another apple with a note on it.

 _So,_ it says, _according to your teleshop Madame we’re supposed to be meant for each other. And yet we have never even seen each other. What if you’re someone super ugly and I don’t want anything to do with you?_

Hakyeon laughs to himself. He grabs a sticky note from the stack that he’s taken to keeping in close proximity to the fridge at all times.

_That would be sad because it would mean you’re a shallow idiot. Is this your way of asking for a picture?_

He busies himself in arranging his potential soulmate’s notes in a little sun on the fridge. (The one confronting him about Madame Kentillenda stays safely hidden behind a Prague magnet Wonshik brought him from one of his tours in Europe.)

The rays are a little short, but Hakyeon has a feeling by the end of tonight, he’ll have enough sticky notes for a decently sized sun.

By the time he’s done, the answer has arrived.

It contains a simple: _Maybe? ;)_

Hakyeon rolls his eyes. _Sorry,_ he writes decisively. This is cute and all, but he’s a person of power in a school. No will do. Then again…

He’s never been much of an artist but he likes to think the suggestively sprawled stickman turned out pretty nice.

*

Fridge buddy's stickman doesn't look half as aesthetically appealing as Hakyeon's. Hakyeon smirks at the tiny... thing, drawn on the edge of the note. He sure as hell hopes fridge buddy doesn't actually look like that.

It feels like a good place to leave the conversation, and it _is_ pretty late. Hakyeon slaps the sticky note in its place on his sun and goes to bed still smiling.

The morning brings… no new notes, for one. Hakyeon checks. Twice.

He tries to convince himself he’s okay with it on his way to work and is even mostly successful, too.

And then the fridge situation doesn’t even cross his mind because -

_Damn._

*

Hakyeon’s phone rings right after Hongbin walks out with after presenting him with his schedule. It’s not too busy of a day and Hakyeon allows himself the joy of a cup of tea without having to gulp it down in a hurry while simultaneously trying to not burn his throat or spill it all over his desk.

This is what his phone interrupts. The number is unknown.

Hakyeon picks up, mostly annoyed because it’s his five minutes of calm, damn it. The voice that greets him sounds nothing like any other overprotective parent he’s had to deal with over the phone.

In fact, it sounds nothing like a parent at all. “Sanghyuk?”

“Oh,” Sanghyuk laughs. “I didn’t think you’d recognize me.”

Honestly, Hakyeon didn’t think he’d recognize him either. He swallows that one down, though. “Did something happen? Where’s Wonshik? Do you need me to do another demo? Because I’m not sure-”

“I know you’re not,” Sanghyuk interrupts, not unkindly. “Wonshik is in his studio probably. I’m not working with him today. He was kind enough to give me your number, though.”

“Oh,” Hakyeon breathes, a lot softer than Sanghyuk had earlier. “Then what did you want?”

“The chance to try and change your mind,” Sanghyuk says decisively. Before Hakyeon can even open his mouth to protest, Sanghyuk continues, “over dinner? Who knows, maybe by the end you’ll be so charmed you won’t be able to refuse me.”

For a few moments Hakyeon just sits there, stares at his closed door, not actually seeing anything. “That’s pretty bold,” he says in the end.

“Think of it as a business dinner,” Hakyeon imagines Sanghyuk shrug. It seems like a thing he’d do in this kind of situation. “Except a little less… fancy. Or not,” he adds and now the smile is obvious in his voice. “Why don’t we go get Chinese? I’ve been wondering about those fancy Chinese places of yours.”

Hakyeon feels the phantom burn of the hellfire Chinese on his tongue. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Not really, no,” Sanghyuk laughs.

Hakyeon kind of likes the sound. “Alright then,” he says in the end. “I’ll call you later to set up the date? I have to run it through my schedule first.”

“Sure,” Sanghyuk replies cheerily, “you’re a busy man, that’s to be expected.”

“I...  Okay,” Hakyeon says, because what else can he say?

When he puts his phone down his tea has long since gone cold. What a morning.

*

The date is set for the next day because Hongbin, the asshole, cleared his entire afternoon upon learning that it’s a _date_ they’re talking about.

Hakyeon really can't trust any of his friends.

He spends said afternoon contemplating how much effort exactly does he want to put in. On the one hand, Sanghyuk is kind of really hot. And younger, but Hakyeon doesn’t like to think about that one too much.

Then again, Sanghyuk has a reason to take him out. Hakyeon can’t, for the life of him, figure out why Sanghyuk would zero in on his voice in particular. Too bad Taekwoon is out of the country again, Hakyeon would totally introduce them to each other. Maybe then Sanghyuk will stop pestering him about singing?

Hakyeon sighs, pulling out a pair of his dressier jeans. He already has a restaurant in mind and while it’s definitely more on the higher end than hellfire Chinese it’s not high enough to require fancy clothes. Contrary to popular belief, Hakyeon doesn’t only eat in snobbish, white cloth restaurants that eat your monthly salary in one meal. Somehow he has a feeling Sanghyuk wouldn’t like that either.

(If the restaurant is that same one which began the conversation via notes - well. No one has to know.)

His outfit mostly complete, Hakyeon stares at himself in his mirror. Now the question is this: does he actually put effort in looking good? He hasn’t had to prepare to impress another person for so long, he kind of wants to go all out. That, however, has the potential to be grounds for major awkwardness if Sanghyuk really did want to just try and convince him to sing. Then again, the way he spoke over the phone… Hakyeon might have not been in the dating business for a while, but he likes to think he can still tell when he’s being flirted with.

In the end, Hakyeon dusts off his eyeliner and makes sure he looks ready to take the world by storm.

*

Sanghyuk definitely seems to appreciate his efforts. If the slow, _slow_ once-over is anything to go by.

Hakyeon feels slightly out of place.

And yet, nothing really happens. Hakyeon is not exactly sure what to expect after all the looks, but apart from them, Sanghyuk never does anything that would make one think this is more than a normal, friendly dinner date. They talk a lot on the way to the restaurant - mostly about Wonshik at first, about how much of a workaholic he is. (Hakyeon doesn’t fail to notice the hint of admiration in Sanghyuk’s voice. Very much fails to stop the warmth blooming in his chest, though.)

Then the topic transitions to family and Hakyeon learns what he already suspected. Sanghyuk’s family couldn’t really afford college and he had to skip those two years so he can save up for it. Hakyeon’s heart squeezes in his chest - mostly out of guilt. What if his fridge buddy was in a similar position? What if -

“I’ve been told,” Sanghyuk says, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips, “that the reason you hate that Chinese place so much is actually because you can’t handle too much spice.”

“Uh,” Hakyeon replies intelligently. Wonshik, the traitor. Hakyeon is going to _kill_ him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells Sanghyuk confidently.

Sanghyuk laughs. “It’s alright, it _is_ kind of spicy.”

“Kind of?!” Hakyeon exclaims before he can really stop himself. “That thing is made in the fiery pits of hell and it _tastes like it.”_

Sanghyuk doesn’t even attempt to hide his laughter, the asshole. The worst part is, it sounds so _nice_ Hakyeon can’t even be mad.

And that’s how he knows he’s fucked.

*

Sanghyuk doesn’t mention his final project even once.

When Hakyeon remembers this was the official reason they met up in the first place, they’re already out the restaurant and walking towards Sanghyuk’s apartment. (He was the one to pick Hakyeon up, so Hakyeon insisted he’s the one to walk Sanghyuk home.)

The night is going so well, Hakyeon doesn’t really want to ruin it with reality. They’ve almost arrived by the time Hakyeon finds the motivation to bring it up.

“What about your song?”

“Hmm,” Sanghyuk mutters, then he grins. “I was supposed to convince you to sing, wasn’t I?”

Hakyeon raises an eyebrow. “You were, indeed.”

“Well then,”Sanghyuk shrugs, “I guess I’ll have to take you out again. You did give me the chance to convince you, and I so carelessly forgot to tonight.”

“You planned this,” Hakyeon says, not quite disbelieving. It’s _cheesy,_ but it also makes his heart flutter in a way it hasn’t for quite a while now.

Sanghyuk’s smile turns somewhat softer. “I sort of did and sort of didn’t. Honestly, I mostly wanted to make sure you’re not actually an asshole.” Hakyeon gears up to protest, slightly offended, but Sanghyuk interrupts him before he can even open his mouth. “I’m really glad you’re not.”

And what does he even say to that?

*

When he gets home, there’s a note in his fridge, stuck to a cupcake much like the one that started this mess. This one doesn’t have the navy fondant or the glittery stars but there are sprinkles of colorful sugar all around it. It’s - cute, is what it is.

It’s still warm, too.

_I have a favor to ask you, mysterious person in my fridge._

Hakyeon reads it twice before he sticks it on his sun.

He raids his cupboards for something to stick his answer on but all he finds are a few stray packets of instant noodles. Oh well.

Instant noodles have as much to do in a fridge as a still warm cupcake does.

He carefully writes a, _I’ll do my best to help? If it’s not pictures again._

 _It’s not,_ the answer reads, stuck to another cupcake (this one a little less warm). _But I need you to agree. It’s really important to me?_

At this point, Hakyeon is slightly puzzled, but also very much intrigued. So he agrees.

The third cupcake comes with a simple _;)_

It’s fine, Hakyeon tries to tell the sinking feeling in his stomach. He’s never met, most likely never will meet this person.

What could possibly- fuck this. Hakyeon is ready for whatever wacky, romantic comedy turn his life is about to take.

*

Hakyeon is _not_ ready for the wacky, romantic comedy turn his life takes.

The biggest proof is this: Sanghyuk, standing in the middle of Hakyeon’s office, grinning. His arm is outstretched, the _Fine, I agree_ Hakyeon vividly remembers writing on a star shaped note last night squeezed between his fingers.

“It was you,” Hakyeon says slowly, quietly. Then again, a little more hysterical. “It was _you.”_

Sanghyuk shrugs. “To be fair, I didn’t know at first. And then you offered me my roommate’s cookies.” He laughs a little, and in the midst of mentally cooing about how cute it all is, Hakyeon remembers.

In a terrifying, painfully vivid moment Hakyeon remembers the puzzled expression Sanghyuk had when looking at the cookie.

And then the realization hits him. “Is this why you asked me out?”

“At first,” Sanghyuk agrees, but before the disappointment can really sink in Hakyeon’s heart, he continues. “I had very… conflicting feelings about you. I really did want to make sure you’re not actually an asshole.”

“It was a test, then.” Hakyeon states. It doesn’t make him feel a whole lot better but it’s certainly better than thinking the whole thing was just a giant, stupid prank.

Sanghyuk shrugs again. “I guess it was. You passed with flying colors, though.”

“Then this?” Hakyeon asks, pointing at the note. Who knew three so… unremarkable words would be the unfolding of it all.

“This,” Sanghyuk grins again, waving the little star _too close_ to Hakyeon’s face. “This is you promising you’re going to sing for me.” Hakyeon stares at him incredulously, still too stunned by the whole thing to form a proper reply. Sanghyuk takes that as his cue to continue. "I'll be lying if I said it doesn't matter whether you agree - for one reason or another, something just _fits_ with your voice. It's the voice I want to hear, five years from now, when I'm a rich and famous producer and brag about my baby steps into stardom."  

Hakyeon can't help it - he bursts out laughing.

The thought of Sanghyuk becoming one of the snobby, filthy rich asshole producers Hakyeon has had to deal with in the past, pre-Wonshik - it's amusing. Hakyeon doesn't know him enough to be _sure_ it's an impossible outcome but somehow it still feels... highly unlikely, at the very least.

They've been quiet for a few minutes now. When Hakyeon looks up, there's something different, something beside the amusement.

It's a fascinating thing, the way Sanghyuk's smile turns softer. The teasing glint in his eyes melts into something kinder, more tender. It makes him look younger. "And yet, the last thing I want _right now_ is to force you into something you don't want to do."

Hakyeon blinks against the sudden change of atmosphere. Sanghyuk's eyes are soft, so soft -

In the end, he never really stood a chance.

“I think I can do it,” he tells Sanghyuk, finally allowing himself to smile. “But I think I might need some more convincing.”

Sanghyuk’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. There’s the teasing smirk again. “This I can definitely do,” he says and the look in his eyes - Hakyeon has to summon a lot of self-restraint to keep eye contact and not… stare at his lips. Or something.

If everything works out - well. At least the story of how they met will not be a dull one.

**Author's Note:**

> a million thank you-s to I and also I because i love both of them and this would've still been an untitled mess if it weren't for them


End file.
